


every long-lost dream (led me to where you are)

by PorcupineGirl



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Jack doesn't like himself very much, M/M, Mild Blood, Romantic Soulmates, runs parallel to year 1 canon, sometimes they play hockey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 21:15:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7285048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorcupineGirl/pseuds/PorcupineGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>But when he looks down, the world comes to a halt for the second time in five minutes.</i>
</p><p> <i>Because his fingers are smeared not with bright red, but with dark bluish-purple.</i></p><p>Jack finds his soulmate in the middle of a hockey game, concussions make it hard to have life-changing conversations, and Johnson is the best way to end a fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	every long-lost dream (led me to where you are)

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, the [OMGCP Trope Challenge](http://omgcp-tropechallenge.tumblr.com) was _supposed_ to be a way to trick _other people_ into creating content for me to enjoy, not a way to give myself more fic to write.
> 
> But then [there was this prompt:](https://omgcp-tropechallenge.tumblr.com/post/146236968528/itsacpsideblog-the-inaugural)"When you bleed in the presence of your soulmate, your blood turns a different color. (*whispers* hockey fight)"
> 
> Second of all, this was supposed to be like 1200 words, like I thought maybe it could even be a Tumblr ficlet, but it turns out if you put Year 1 Playoffs Jack and Bitty together things are very complicated between them and if you do it right when Bitty has a concussion it's even more complicated.
> 
> Thanks to [jadeykins](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jadeykins) for talking some stuff through - then I added another 3K words hahahaha oh god.
> 
> Title from [Bless the Broken Road.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bS8mwiuGXh4)

**2007**

Jack's stomach shouldn't drop at the sight of the red blood on his fingers.

After all, only one in ten people ever finds their soulmate at all. Yet like forty or fifty percent of people find someone they spend their whole lives with, right?

And it's dumb, because he's only known Kenny for a few months. He's not actually _looking_ for that, even. They're just kids. They just have fun.

And yet…

When Jack found himself face down on the ice after a particularly hard and well-placed check, when he pushed himself up and realized he could feel wetness on his bottom lip…

For just a second he'd hoped.

But his blood is still red, and Kenny is skating over right now, plenty close enough to cause a reaction.

And even though if you'd asked him yesterday—hell, even an hour ago—Jack would have said he's way too young to worry about things like that, and he and Kenny are just fooling around, not even, like, _boyfriends_ or anything, he doesn't even _think_ about whether or not they have a future together…

Even so, he's still not sure which is worse: the red blood on his hand, or the fact that Kenny doesn't even seem to register or care about the fact that it's red as he says "Fuck, Zimms, that lip's busted bad, you might need stitches or some shit."

 

**2014**

The night Samwell secures its spot in the playoffs, Jack means to apologize to Bittle. He plans to. It was beyond unfair of him to get upset when the coaches put Bittle on his line, and the way they play together is proof of that. He hasn't felt this alive, this connected while playing with anyone since Kent. More than Kent, although that may just be because he's a more experienced player now. Maybe all that checking practice gave them both a feel for how the other moves, or maybe Jack just works best with small, speedy guys—whatever it is, it's working. And he owes Bittle an apology.

He owes Bittle an apology for a lot of things, but this would be a good start. Maybe Jack will walk him back to his dorm after the guys go out to celebrate and talk to him then.

He squashes down the tickle in his stomach that tries to point out to him the many other implications that walking someone back to their dorm room could have.

Yes, Jack has eyes in his head and can see that Bittle is attractive. He's lost some of the baby face he came to Samwell with over the course of the year, and Jack isn't going to pretend he doesn't notice.

But he can't afford to do something as stupid as try to date a teammate. Especially now that they're working so well together on the ice—a breakup could destroy the team's chances in the playoffs this year or next year, and that, in turn, could doom Jack's career before it starts.

It's not like that went well for him last time. He can't believe he thought, however briefly, that Kent Parson could be his soulmate. He can't believe he wasted so much time over the following two years wishing it were true. Now he mostly hopes he doesn't have a soulmate, because he'd probably just disappoint them by being too focused on hockey to give them enough attention.

And anyhow, Bittle has more self-respect than to date someone who's treated him like shit as many times as Jack has. Or he should, at least. Along with Shitty, Bittle is one of the most unashamedly _himself_ people Jack has ever met. He may not have been out before he came to Samwell, but he's never tried to hide anything else. It takes some kind of guts to walk into a house full of hockey bros you barely know and start baking. Sure, they all love him, but it could have gone differently on a different team. He's a ball of warmth and light, and—

 _Oh right_ , he tells himself as he slides into the booth next to Bittle, _squashing it down_.

Then a sports commentator ruins Jack's night, and he never does get around to that apology. He doesn't realize it until he wakes up the next morning.

Yeah, Bittle definitely deserves better than Jack.

 

When Jack sees Bittle fly into the air, he thinks he might be sick.

"I've got your back," he'd just said. But Jack clearly did _not_ have Bittle's back and now he feels like he's watching the result of his self-centeredness in slow motion.

The worst moment is when Bittle's helmet comes off, falling to the ice as he continues moving upward another several inches.

But that is quickly replaced as the worst moment by the moment Bitty hits the ground.

The world freezes for a few seconds, then abruptly returns to normal speed. The next few minutes are a bit of a blur—Jack skates toward Bitty to check on him, but the coaches are on the ice immediately and reach him first. Jack thinks he'd just be in the way, so he stops about ten feet away… but then his eyes land on Spencer, the guy who sent Bitty flying.

The asshole doesn't look at all concerned that he just hip-checked a kid literally half his size, or that said kid just hit his helmetless head on the ice hard enough to do actual damage. He's not exactly laughing about it, but he's watching the coaches help Bitty sit up with a fucking _smirk_ on his face.

Later, Jack doesn't remember the exact sequence of events, nor does he know exactly what he yelled at Spencer as he shoved the giant D-man's chest as hard as he could. He remembers Holster skating into the douchebag from the side, knocking him just enough off-balance for Jack to get a good punch in. He thinks a couple other things happened, a couple more guys from both teams joining the fight.

He has no idea who it was who actually hit him, he just remembers feeling the blow, turning away from the fray, and bringing his hand up to wipe at his bleeding lip.

Then the weird sense of deja vu that he always gets after a split lip, in the second between touching the blood and looking down at his hand. As if every single time, over all these years, he's going to be newly disappointed that Kent Parson isn't his fucking soulmate.

But when he looks down, the world comes to a halt for the second time in five minutes.

Because his fingers are smeared not with bright red, but with dark bluish-purple.

He frowns. That can't be right. Blood is red.

The fight behind him forgotten, he raises his other hand, checks that it's clean, then prods at his lip again. Feels the wetness seep out onto his fingers. Looks down at them.

Dark bluish-purple.

He looks around at the other guys fighting, though it's mostly been broken up by now. Red blood, red blood, red blood. Dark green on Holster, but they've known that for years.

He's pretty close to the stands here. If the hormonal reaction that causes blood changes has an average reach of twenty-five to thirty feet, there were at least a couple dozen people within that radius when he got hit.

He's still bleeding. When he wipes his mouth again, he realizes his blood is already reverting to a more reddish purple. Whoever it was, they're nearly out of range now.

Jack suddenly remembers why he got in the fight in the first place, and looks to see if Bitty is okay—he spots him, on the other side of the rink, on his feet but leaning heavily into Coach Hall's side as he steps off the ice. Jack breathes a sigh of relief, because Bitty is conscious and walking, and that's better than he'd feared.

Jack, Holster, and Ransom are ejected from the game for fighting, but so are three of the other team's players, and the game is basically over anyhow. Samwell is up by one and there's only a minute or so left on the clock. It's _possible_ the other team could score, but given that their only point was at the top of the game and by one of the guys who just got booted, it's unlikely.

Jack can't really bring himself to care if they do. As much as he wants to make it to the Frozen Four, if the reason they don't is because he attacked the guy who hurt Bitty, he can live with that.

His lip is still bleeding when he gets off the ice, and he realizes he should probably get an ice pack or something to put on it.

But when he runs into Coach Murray on his way to the locker room, his first question is, "Where's Bittle? Is he okay?"

Coach Murray looks at him, frowning down at his hand and back to his lip. But then his frown fades as his eyes widen. Jack realizes he must see that the blood isn't as bright red as it should be, it still must be a little bit purple.

But when Jack wipes his lip again, he sees that it's not just a little bit purple. It's gone back to the deep bluish-purple color.

"He'll be all right. He's being examined right now. I think—I think you should come see him, Jack."

Jack doesn't understand Coach's tone. If Bitty's okay, why does he sound so concerned? But he nods and follows Coach Murray into the trainer's room, where Bitty is sitting on a table while a doctor shines a light in his eyes. Jack lingers in the doorway, watching the back of Bitty's head.

"I'm still pretty dizzy," Bitty's saying, because of course he's chattering away at a time like this. But he's talking a little slower than usual—he isn't slurring the words, which is good, but he doesn't sound normal, and that raises Jack's heart rate a little. "And the headache's definitely coming on now. Still not sleepy, though, that's good, right?"

"Yes, and your pupils are responding properly, so I don't think we need to get you to an ER just yet," the doctor replies. Jack breathes a sigh of relief. "Let me get that cut on your cheek patched up, and I think we can just let your friends monitor you for the next couple of days. I'll give you a list of things to watch for—if any of those happen, get right to a hospital, but otherwise I'll check you again in two days."

The doctor turns away to get a bandage, and Bitty holds his head and groans lightly. Jack finally approaches him.

"Hey. Bittle, I'm—I'm sorry about that. I didn't—" Bitty turns to look at Jack, and Jack stops suddenly at the frightened look in Bitty's eyes. "What? What's wrong?"

"Doctor!" Bitty turns away and tugs on the doctor's sleeve. "Something's wrong. The blood on Jack's mouth, it looks—it's not red, it looks blue or purple or something. Am I seeing things? Can a concussion mess with how you see colors?"

Jack smiles, relieved, as he puts a hand on Bitty's shoulder. "No, no, don't worry. I see it, too. I have no idea where it came from, though."

The doctor looks back and forth between them, her brow creasing. "Oh, I'm sorry," she says, her voice sounding strangely strained. "I—I assumed you knew."

She takes a piece of gauze and dabs at Bitty's left cheek, which Jack can't see from this angle but he assumes is the location of the cut she mentioned earlier. She shows the gauze to them.

The blood on it is a dark bluish-purple.

They both freeze, Jack's hand on Bitty's shoulder tightening of its own accord. The doctor lowers the gauze, but they both keep staring straight ahead at the spot where it was. Bitty touches his cheek, and his fingers come away smeared with purple. Jack's heart speeds up. God, they got off to such a rocky start and that's _entirely his fault_ and christ how happy could they have been together all this year if he'd just—

"Let me just—" the doctor is very obviously flustered by this point, "—get this, um. I'll just clean this off and get this bandage on you and I'll be out of your way, okay?"

Jack finally looks down at Bitty, but Bitty is focused on the doctor, nodding. They stand there awkwardly while she puts the bandage on his cheek.

"And you, actually…" She puts a hand on Jack's chin when she's done with Bitty. "Let me get some antiseptic on that and an ice pack for you, or that's going to swell like crazy."

Jack nods, then looks back down to where Bitty is finally looking up at him.

Shit.

Wow.

What do you say at a moment like this?

Bitty's face crumbles and he looks away. "I'm sorry."

"What?" Jack feels panic welling up inside him because he thinks Bitty might cry and he knows that might be the concussion making him more easily upset but the thought of Bitty crying is just— "Sorry for what? It's not your fault, it's my fault, I was so focused on scoring that I didn't even notice him until he was on top of you—"

"Not that!" Bitty rolls his eyes, but there are still tears in them. "I mean, the…" He holds up his finger with the smear of blood on it. "Jack, I _know_ I'm not what you want, and I don't expect anything from you because of this—"

He stops talking when the doctor comes back with an antiseptic wipe and an ice pack. She wipes at Jack's mouth with an apologetic look, presses the ice pack to his lip until he reaches up and takes it, and moves on to where Holster is now sitting with a black eye.

Unfortunately, while Jack was distracted by the doctor, Bitty managed to stand up from the table and is now making his way—slightly unsteadily—toward the door. Jack jumps after him, ice pack held to his lip. When he catches up in the hallway, he puts an arm around Bitty's waist to steady him.

"Jack, you don't have to—"

"We need to talk. Please. Alone?"

Bitty sighs and lets Jack steer him to the loading docks, where they take a seat on a pile of pallets. Jack keeps a hand on Bitty's back, and while Bitty looks at his arm warily, he doesn't try to shake it off.

"Don't tell me you're not what I want," Jack says gently. "You don't know what I want."

Bitty raises an eyebrow, giving Jack a _look_. He may be concussed, but his ability to convey incredulity in the sassiest way possible, without speaking a word, is clearly unharmed.

"Jack. I'm not stupid. I may not know exactly what you want, but I _know_ it's not me. I mean, you don't _hate_ me anymore, well, I don't _think_ —"

"I have never hated you," Jack cuts in emphatically. "I know I've been… I was unkind to you. I've said things to you that I regret. And not because of this; I regretted them as soon as I said them. I'm sorry I never apologized, but I think I mostly didn't so that I could beat myself up over it even more. I know that we weren't friends at first, but I swear that I never hated you."

"Still, though…" Bitty shrugs. "I know you don't feel that way about me, and you probably never could, and that's okay, Jack, if it's a false bond I won't make you—"

"Stop. Please." Jack raises the hand that's not around Bitty, maybe to touch Bitty's face or maybe to run it over his own, he's not even sure—but it still has the ice pack in it. The ice pack he should be holding to his mouth. He sighs and tries to hold it in such a way that he can still talk around it. "I'm not going to say that I'm madly in love with you, because as much as I've gotten to know you this year, I don't really know you that well in the way I would need to for that. Does that make sense?"

Jack shakes his head. This is supposed to be _simple_. You meet your soulmate, you get together, that's that. He knows it's not a fairy tale, because he's seen it. It worked that way for Ransom and Holster.

"But I like what I do know. A _lot_. I care about you. When I saw you hit the ice… Look, my feelings for you… I care about you as a friend, but there's more to it than that. I'm not really sure yet how deep that goes, but I want to find out, and find out where it could go in the future. I don't understand why you would say that I _couldn't_ fall in love with you, because I think the only reason I'm not there yet is because I've spent all year pushing you away so it wouldn't happen."

He looks back at Bitty, who is now staring at him dubiously.

"There's no way you'd be saying that if you hadn't seen our blood," Bitty finally says. Jack shrugs and looks down again, a little ashamed that he's right.

"Probably not. If we weren't soulmates, I'd probably just keep pushing my feelings for you aside. Maybe eventually they'd go away, I don't know. Or maybe I'd fall in love with you anyhow. But all of that—it was there before tonight. I wouldn't have said it, I wouldn't have even let myself think about it, but that wouldn't make it untrue." He glances back up at Bitty, who is looking down at his hands. He looks… troubled. "If you don't want this, that's fine. I won't force it on you any more than you'd force it on me. Or if you want to wait, see what happens, see if maybe next year we want to talk about it again. Or whatever. But I wanted you to know that I'm…" He was going to say "okay with this," but that seems insufficient. "…happy."

Bitty glances up at him, and Jack smiles a little, realizing that it's true. He's happy. Then he winces, because split lip.

"I'm happy it's you, because I know that you're a good person, you're kind, and you're strong and passionate. I don't know if you could ever love someone like me, who's hurt you and pushed you away over and over again. I have a lot of issues, and I'm still learning not to take them out on the people around me. I'll probably do it again, and hate myself for it again. But if we did pursue this, and you _could_ fall in love with me, you have no idea how proud I would be to have someone like you by my side. To have _you_ by my side."

He doesn't really have anything else to say. He's never laid this much of himself bare before to anyone but a therapist, but he knows this is worth the uneasiness that comes with the vulnerability. He doesn't blame Bitty for thinking Jack doesn't like him, and although it's rare for soulmates for knowingly reject a bond, he would understand if Bitty can't forgive him enough to accept it. He's been an asshole; he often feels like a turtle, always pulling back into its shell for defense, but he knows he actually acts more like a hedgehog, not caring who gets stuck on his spines when he curls up. And more often than not this year, it's been Bitty. Who hasn't deserved any of it, but who has just happened to find himself tripping over every mental bear trap set in Jack's brain.

Then, suddenly, Bitty is burrowing into Jack's side, his arms thrown around Jack's waist. Jack tightens his hold, letting himself press his nose into Bitty's hair.

"I'm sorry, Jack." Bitty turns his head so that his face is no longer pressed directly against Jack, making it much easier to hear him. "This is just kind of terrifying, you know? Everything all at once. The check, and the concussion, and seeing our blood match, and then now you're saying all these wonderful things and I don't even understand where they're coming from? And I'm still kinda dizzy and my head hurts something awful, and I'm worried I'm misinterpreting everything you say because my brain's not working right."

"We don't have to figure everything out tonight," Jack says gently. "You're right, you're not really in a condition to make major decisions right now, are you? I just wanted you to know that if you decide you want to pursue this, then I do, too."

At that, Bitty sits up and laughs. He keeps laughing, and Jack is more confused by the minute. Eventually, Bitty pulls his feet up onto the pallet so that he can hide his face in his knees.

"If _I_ decide I want to pursue this, he says." Bitty shakes his head, his forehead still resting on his knees. Then he raises his head, not looking at Jack still, but up at the ceiling. "Lord, Jack, of course _I_ want to! Yeah, I'm terrified and kinda feel like I got run over by a truck right at the moment, but that doesn't mean I don't want this. I'm just…" He looks at Jack finally, and Jack's heart breaks. "I'm so scared that you're saying nice things because I got hurt—I mean, I don't think you're lying, I'm just scared that _you're_ scared and in shock and not thinking straight and tomorrow morning you're gonna wake up and wonder what the hell was wrong with you, giving me all that false hope. I wanna believe all of it, good Lord you have no idea how much I wanna believe it. But I'll believe it more if you can still say it tomorrow, or a week from now."

"Okay, then." Jack stands up. "We need to shower anyhow. If telling you again tomorrow or next week is what it takes to make you feel better about it, I'll tell you again tomorrow, and the day after that, and as many times as you want me to. And when you decide I've said it enough times, I'll take you out to dinner, and we can start getting to know each other for real. More than just what's on the ice."

Bitty nods, although he still doesn't look entirely convinced. Jack helps him off the pallet, and they head to the locker room.

Jack understands Bitty's worries. It's been a rough night, for both of them. Too much going on physically, mentally, emotionally.

And he'll do whatever he needs to to make sure Bitty feels comfortable with this before they act on it. If Bitty can't trust him tonight, that's fine. Jack knows that he'll feel the same way tomorrow, and a week from now, and a month from now.

 

They wind up bringing Bitty back to the Haus to sleep that night, so they can all keep an eye on him. Jack sleeps on the couch and lets Bitty have his bed, and everyone sets an alarm such that, throughout the night, every two hours somebody will wake Bitty up and make sure he's not getting worse.

Nobody (besides the coaches and the doctor) seems to have noticed the blood. Bitty's is covered, of course. Jack's has dried enough that the bit still crusted on his lip is a nearly-black purple that doesn't look all that different from the dark red of regular dried blood. The scab will probably be almost identical to the one he got the time he cut his lip with Kent nearby—but he'll know it's different.

Jack's shift to wake Bitty up is at 4am. His phone alarm buzzes, he stretches the kinks out of his back from sleeping on the couch, and heads upstairs.

He wasn't prepared for the sight of Bitty in his bed. _Fuck_ , he thinks as he reaches out to touch the soft blonde hair that's gotten just long enough to fan out on his pillow, _maybe I'm even farther gone than I realized._ He was right, of course, when he said that they haven't gotten to know each other off the ice well enough to really fall in love. But there's not a thing that he does know about Bitty that he doesn't love.

He sits at the edge of the bed and shakes Bitty's shoulder gently.

"Bittle. Hey, it's four o'clock."

"Wha?" Jack is more relieved than he expected when Bitty's eyes blink open and squint at him blearily through the light filtering in from the window.

"Four o'clock. Come on, time for checking practice," Jack can't help chirping.

Bitty continues to squint at him for a moment, then shoves him hard on the arm, smiling.

"I'm half-convinced you're not even joking, but I'm gonna pretend you are just so I don't have to kill you in your sleep later on."

Jack makes a disappointed noise in the back of the throat. "The concussion must be worse than they thought. Now you're hallucinating that I know how to make a joke. We'd better get you to the hospital for a scan. Right after checking practice."

By the time he's done, Bitty is propped up on his elbows, full-on giggling. "How in the hell do you keep your face so straight? You have a gift, Mr. Zimmermann."

Jack finally smiles. "No, I have a carefully honed skill from years of contact with the press. You seem fine, go back to sleep."

Then, without thinking, he leans forward and kisses Bitty on the forehead. When he realizes what he just did, he opens his mouth to apologize, but at the quiet sound of Bitty's voice it snaps shut.

"Do you still mean it?" Bitty looks up at him, curiosity etched on his face.

"Every word."

Bitty just nods, chewing his bottom lip. He sinks back down into the covers, and Jack wishes he could climb in, too. Not just yet, though.

"Do you need any pain medicine or anything?" Jack asks as he stands up.

Bitty yawns and shakes his head. "Shitty grabbed me some at two, I think it's still working. Just kind of a dull throb right now."

"All right. See you in a few hours."

 

Jack wakes up at 6:30 to wonderful smells coming from the kitchen.

Bitty, of course, is the source of the wonderful smells. He's just putting something in the oven, and Jack tries (not entirely successfully) not to stare at his ass.

"What are you making?" he asks, once Bitty's standing up again. Bitty jumps a little at his voice, but is smiling when he turns around.

"A crustless quiche, which I would normally consider an oxymoron, but I figure y'all need as many of your calories as possible to be protein today. So, eggs, bacon, cheese, spinach, and zero flour."

Jack's smile fades a little at the reminder that Bitty won't be able to play in tonight's game.

"I'll miss you tonight," he says, going over to lean on the counter by Bitty.

Bitty's smile falls a little, too, but he pulls it back up and nudges Jack with his shoulder. "I'll be there, silly. On the bench, cheering y'all on every second of that game."

"I mean on the ice," Jack says, bumping Bitty's shoulder back. "I know I was an ass about it, but putting you on my line is the best decision Murray and Hall have ever made. It's not just that I play better. There's just something _right_ about it, you know? Something electric. It feels wrong, now, when you're not there."

Bitty is blushing by the time Jack's done, looking down at the potholder he's fiddling with.

"I guess we know why now, huh?" he finally says, glancing up at Jack with a shy little smile.

"I guess so." And wow, that's… wow. He thinks about what Rans and Holster have said about it, how playing with their soulmate is so different from playing with anyone else. It kind of drives home the fact that this is real, that they may have only just discovered this bond but it's been there all this time.

Bitty suddenly pushes off the counter, startling Jack. He starts flitting around, gathering the dishes from the quiche into the sink, looking flustered. Jack watches him, unsure if he just realized he needed to clean up or if he's avoiding Jack somehow.

Finally, Bitty pauses at the sink.

"I've got… stuff to say, but…" He sighs, not looking at Jack yet. "I'm worried this whole thing is gonna be one big distraction for you, with such a big game tonight and all, so I dunno if we should really be hashing things out yet."

Jack's stomach twists—of course, he'll give Bitty as much time as he needs, but he can't tell if the things Bitty wants to say to him are good or bad. Which would be more distracting from the game? He's not even sure.

Then Bitty looks up. "Just—tell me you still mean it?"

Relief floods Jack's veins.

"Of course I do."

Bitty nods, and that shy smile is back. "Okay. We'll talk about it tomorrow, then, okay? After y'all get this game won."

 

They don't win.

Jack knows, intellectually, that it's not just because he didn't have Bitty playing on his line. They put up a good fight, went into overtime. There were probably a hundred places where one little change would have kept the other team from scoring or helped Samwell get one more goal.

He knows that, but it doesn't stop him from blaming himself. Both for not protecting Bitty from that asshole last night and for not playing quite as well without him.

Shitty keeps up a nonstop stream of chatter, trying to keep Jack distracted. Bitty's quiet, but he sticks right next to Jack from the moment they leave the locker room. He walks with them back to the Haus, but so do Lardo and a couple other guys, so nobody questions it. Shitty talks the whole way there, with Johnson occasionally inserting his strange Johnson-esque comments.

Once they're at the Haus, he half expects Bitty to disappear into the kitchen, but he stays with Jack. Some of the guys are having a beer, but Jack is wary of drinking when he's down. When he heads upstairs instead, Bitty follows. Nobody notices.

He follows Jack right into his room without a word. Jack was grateful for Shitty's noise in the immediate aftermath, but now he's just as grateful for Bitty's silence. They both strip down to a t-shirt and underwear, and when Jack gets into bed, Bitty slides in after him.

The past two years, after their last game (last loss) of the season, Jack's lain in bed half the night, going over the game again and again in his head, analyzing everything he did wrong.

Now, with Bitty curled into his side, he falls right to sleep.

 

He wakes up warm and confused, until he realizes that he's wrapped around Bitty from behind, and it's Bitty's hair that's tickling his nose. He looks at the clock—it's seven, but it's not like they have a game to get ready for. He nuzzles into the back of Bitty's neck and falls back asleep.

 

When he wakes up again, the first thing he sees when his eyes blink open are warm brown eyes looking into his.

He smiles and stretches. "How long have you been awake?"

Huh. It's the morning after getting tossed from the playoffs, and Jack Zimmermann is smiling.

"Just a couple minutes. I was just wondering if I should wake you up or let you sleep." Bitty smirks. "I didn't know you were capable of sleeping in, I wanted to see how long it would last. Shoulda known not very long."

"Nine thirty is pretty late for me," Jack says. He feels suddenly shy, but he goes ahead and says what he's thinking anyhow. "I woke up earlier, but you were so comfortable I didn't want to move."

Bitty blushes, and tries to hide his smile in the pillow. It's adorable.

"Okay, so." Bitty picks his head up off the pillow, props himself up on his elbow. Jack likes looking up at him for once. "I'm sorry I freaked out on you. A lot of that was the concussion talking. Not all of it, but a lot of it. I just… this didn't happen the normal way, y'know?"

"I know." Jack hesitates, reaches up and tentatively touches Bitty's face. Bitty leans into the contact. "That's my fault. I felt… some kind of pull toward you. As soon as we met. I just wrote it off as physical attraction, and then wrote that off as something I didn't have time to think about. I needed—I _thought_ I needed to say focused on hockey and classes and nothing else. So when I looked at you, it wasn't just through a hockey filter. I…" Jack frowns, looking for the right words. He's only realized all this in the past day or so, he's not sure even he fully understands just yet. "I overcompensated? At first I only looked for the negatives to try and cancel out any sort of attraction. But, Bits." Jack smiles. "You just didn't have enough negatives for me to keep that up for very long."

Bitty laughs and hides his face in Jack's hand. When he flops back down onto the pillow next to Jack, Jack's hand is in his.

"I felt it, too. But you were, y'know… not particularly nice to me, so yeah, I figured it was just 'cause you're hot. 'Cause damn, Jack, you're hot." Jack can feel himself blushing and rolls his eyes. "And it's been getting stronger, but I've been doin' my best to ignore it. And when I saw our blood, I thought… I thought I'd felt it and you hadn't so it must be a half bond where the hormones only work on one person, or maybe just a false bond and I just had a normal crush on you like any stupid kid. I mean, I didn't even know you liked guys, so I figured something had to have gone wrong."

"I'm so sorry." Jack brings Bitty's hand up and kisses it, and Bitty's eyes widen minutely. "I can't promise I won't mess up again. It would take me an hour to explain all my problems—and I promise, I'll take that hour eventually, just not now—and I'm in therapy and I'm on safer anxiety meds now, but sometimes I get so far into my head that I forget other people even exist. I mean—not that they exist, but that they're people? They just… feel like props in a play and I forget that if I yell at them or ignore them it hurts them. If I ever do that to you again, please, _please_ call me out on it, okay? I need someone to pull me out of my head when I get like that. And I don't want to hurt you, ever, but if I do I want to know it so that I can make amends and do better the next time."

"You don't seem to do that as much as you used to, though," Bitty says. "I mean—I know I haven't known you that long even, but just since the beginning of the year, y'know?"

Jack smiles. "You make it really hard to forget you're a real person."

Bitty laughs, but then he bites his lip, looking down at the pillow. "Well, I'm not… I'm not real good with confrontation. Honestly, the idea of calling you out if you snap at me when you're in a mood kinda freaks me out. I'll try, though. If that's what you want me to do."

"It is. And… and you'll tell me what you want?" Jack knows Bitty is still a little intimidated by him, and that seems like a terrible way to start a relationship, but it's what they've got to work with. "Or need? Please? Anytime. Even if I probably can't give it to you, I want to know. I can't try unless I know what I'm trying for."

Bitty nods. "I'll try." He takes a deep breath, then scoots a little closer to Jack. Their noses are nearly touching now, and suddenly the fact that their hands are their only point of contact is terrible, so Jack drops Bitty's hand and slides his arm around his waist instead. When Bitty's arm goes around him, too, it feels so right that Jack can't breathe for a second.

"Right now," Bitty says, his voice quiet but firm, "all I want or need is you. Us. This. You still want this?"

"Absolutely," Jack says. There's no doubt in his mind. A few days ago, he would have said that a relationship would be a distraction. But he plays better with Bitty, and he _is_ better with Bitty. Bitty gets him out of his head, distracts him from the distractions. They won't even be as discriminated against as most same-sex couples, because nobody really argues with a soulmate bond, no matter who it's between. There is no downside to this at all.

"Can I kiss you?" Jack whispers. Bitty nods. His eyes are still wide when Jack closes his eyes, tipping forward.

At first it's just a gentle press of the lips. Jack doesn't want to push things, just in case Bitty isn't sure he wants to seal their bond right then. But then Bitty opens his mouth under him, and Jack deepens the kiss almost automatically, and. _Oh_.

He can feel it. The bond, he can feel it strengthening. They cling to each other, the kisses becoming rougher and more desperate, and everything else falls away. There's some pain in his split lip, but that just keeps him grounded, lets him know that this is real, because it feels pretty unreal otherwise. It's overwhelming, and he doesn't even know what it is. He's heard other people struggle to explain how a sealed soulmate bond feels, and now he understands. It's a bone-deep certainty, a need. Loyalty. He knows, he knows down to his core that he'll do whatever it takes to be the partner Bitty needs him to be.

Bitty pulls back from the kiss, gasping. "Jack, that— _Jack_."

They stare at each other for a moment, both of them wide-eyed with wonder at what they've just experienced. What they've just done, together. It's irreversible, and Jack feels no regret or anxiety over that.

"Let me take you out," he says, all in a rush. "Let's go get breakfast, or brunch, or something. And then maybe—maybe I can help you bake something?"

They're in bed together, pressed against each other and breathing heavily from what was really quite a passionate makeout session, and maybe Jack should want to stay here and take that further, but. There's so much he doesn't know about his soulmate, so much farther in love to fall.

Bitty nods eagerly.

 

The rest of the Haus is hungover on either alcohol, defeat, or both. Most of the others aren't even up yet—Wicks is passed out on the green couch, Lardo is curled up on a beanbag with a quilt from Shitty's bed thrown over her.

They do bump into Johnson as they're heading out.

"Hey, you guys finally figure your shit out? You two seal your bond and all that?"

Jack and Bitty blink at him, startled.

"Um, yes," Jack says slowly. "How did you know?" They're not even holding hands right now. Did he hear them talking this morning? Are the walls really _that_ thin?

"It's the entire point of this AU, bro. Classic trope, man, classic. Glad it worked out for you two; this author, she likes to fuck around with tropes like this sometimes, but there's always a happy ending."

He claps both of them on the shoulder and heads upstairs, leaving them staring at each other quizzically.

"Is he… reading a book? That he's trying to tell us about?" Bitty asks.

Jack shakes his head. "I have no idea. It's Johnson. Don't think too hard about anything he says. C'mon, let's get going."

He gives Bitty a quick kiss, just because he can, and they head out for their first date.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr.](http://porcupine-girl.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you like Soulmate AUs, especially ones with a twist, we've gotten some good ones over at the [Trope Challenge](http://omgcp-tropechallenge.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Disclaimer: I have no idea what actually happens after a hockey injury or fight. I did enough research to determine that in the NCAA the players will get expelled, but only for that game if it's their first offense of the season.
> 
> ... Yes, I've worked on the next chapter of Breath. And my DCBB. And my Dean/Cas Tropefest fic.


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